Red and Purple
by silvermonkey
Summary: Despite being apprehended Clint knows that Natasha is hot on his tail and his would be captors should be afraid, very afraid.
1. Purple

They laughed as they took his weapons, faces twisted into grotesque mockeries of smiles. They hadn't been expecting him but after the initial attack they had regrouped and cornered him long enough for one of them to get in a good hit with a crowbar. He was half dragged- vision graying-towards a large post in the middle of the compound. Clint felt someone wrap thick rope around his wrists and loop it round the post. His body ached with new bruises. Blinking hard he cursed under his breath, definately concusion. Around him the mercenaries he had been sent to eliminate lowered their voices talking quickly, sending occasionaly glances his way. They weren't about to let their guard down now they had caught him. Clint smirked, they should be afraid, very afraid. Natasha was going to murder them.

"What are you so pleased about? You are at a distinct disadvantage Hawkeye," the new comer practically spat out his moniker.

Clint gave him a shit eating grin, "Your sudden and painfull death."

The blow almost caught him by surpries making his had spin. He blinked rappidly forcing himself to focus.

"You will not be laughing once I am through with you."

"Threats and oh look more threats," Clint teased, "I'm so scared I'm shaking in my boots."

A heavily booted foot made its aquaintence with his stomach driving the air from his lungs. he coughed and spat blood onto the damp earth, "That all you've got?"

The man crouched infront of him, one hand twisting the archer's hair forcing his head back and exposing his throat, "I want to know who is so keen to have me removed from the game."

Clint's expression went cold, his stormy eyes hard, "This is a game to you? Innocent peoples lives are worth nothing to you?"

"Collatreral," the man shrugged, "You shouldn't take things so personaly."

The archer's eyes narrowed to slits. Forget Natasha his was going to have this basterd's heart on a skewer.

Standing the man shoved his hands in his pockets, "Did you check out the forcast before you planned this little excursion Hawkeye? I hear we're in for a thunder storm. I hope you're not afraid of lightning."

Clint watched the jackass saunter away with a dark glower. Soon he was left alone in the thickening darkness. The first drops of water washed away the grime from the previous fight. It tapped out a steady heart beat on his skin. A small smile twitched on his lips, rain reminded him of Natasha. If he caught pneumonia she was going to skin him alive. His short bark of laughter desolved into a hacking cough. Oh yeah he was so dead.

He must have blacked out because a clap of thunder roused him with a start. Clint shook his head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs. His uniform was drenched, sticking to his clamy skin. Taking stock of his injuries he discovered that his left wrist was bruiesed and swollen. At least it hadn't been his right. A flash of light illuminated the compound for a split second.

_One one thousand._

The next boom almost deafened him, it was as if someone had set off a cannon in his ear.

_Two one thousand._

The phone wires above him crackled onimously. Clint gazed up a frown maring his features. No, no way, he could not be that unlucky. Another flash glanced off the watch tower by the gate.

_Three one thousand._

Clint saw the flames before he heard them. They licked down the tower in a desperate attempt to udevoure it in one go. The metal sparked, twisting and pinging in the blazing heat. The roof below it became the next victim. Somewhere in the distance an alarm was blaring. Voices shouted back and forth in growing hysterical panic. The fire roared as it spread like spint paint across the ground. Clint tugged at the rope around his wrists. It refused to give. He gritted his teeth. There was no chance he was going to die tied to a post in the middle of a blazing inferno in a freak storm.

He saw her before his mind redgistered what he had seen. A black shilluette darting from one shadow to another. The shouts rose in volume, frantic and terrified. Told you so, he thought smugly.

She was at his side in an instant, hands cupping his face, "Clint?"

He swallowed down tangy blood and smirked a little, "What kept you?"

"Ass," she snapped fondly. Her knife made short work of his bindings and she haulled him to his feet. Slinging one of his arms over her shoulders Natasha navigated their way through the smoke.

"Told them you'd be mad," the archer mumbled.

Natsha shook her head, "Just wait till you're back in one piece," she mock threataned.

Clint let his head loll onto her shoulder and felt a tiny smile tug at his lips, "I'm so scared."


	2. Red

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, if I did I would be in fangirl heaven. The characters belong to their respective owners.

Author's Note: So thanks to some encouragement I decided to write Natasha's version of events. I think I might do one more part to this story before calling it done, after all Marcus White is still out there...

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, faved and added this story to their alerts, it makes me feel all warm and glowy inside. :D

Slivermonkey

Natasha knew something was wrong the moment Barton failed to checkin. She felt twisting in her gut. Romanoff gazed at the blank wall the safe house for a fraction of a second. Simple scouting- he'd said- it shouldn't take longer than an hour, yeah right. Trouble had a way of finding her partner with or without her permission. Natasha shook her head and gathered her weapons.

The night air was raw against what little exposed skin she had. A light drizzle coated the dirt track that winded its way into the forest. She touched a hand to her communicator, they had been on their own but Coulson would want to know.

"Romanoff?"

"Barton's compromised."

On the other end the usualy stoic shield agent swore, "Plan of action?"

Natasha ducked under the shelter of the swaying trees, "Extraction," and if they'd laid a single finger on him, heads were going to roll.

"I'll have a chopper ready on air strip nine."

"Ten minuets tops," she stated.

"Bring him back in one piece," Natasha could hear the concern in his voice.

"I will," of that she was certain because if he didn't come back, then neither did she.

The Black Widow tracked Barton's movements to a towering trunk one mile from the compound. The rain was thick and heavy, plastering her hair to her scalp. Her uniform was quickly becoming saturated and heavy. Frowning Natasha scaled the tree until she had a good view. Blinking water from her eyes she scanned the edge of the fence for any patroling mercs. Not a soul moved. Natasha's lips curled into a deadly smile, they weren't going to know what hit them. Nobody took what was her's with out her express permission.

Scowling she thought back to the missions original purpose. She and Barton had been tasked with eliminating Marcus White and his weapons trading ring. Weapons that sent innocent children into battle, weapons that murdered bystanders on the streets. It made her sick just thinking about it. No child should be forced to become something they weren't. Eyes hardening she turned her attention back to the matter at hand. She had to get in and out with her erent partner, hopefully without being noticed. Bringing the place down around White's ears was just a bonus as far as she was concerned. Clint was her priority.

Lightning flickered in the sky. From her vantage point she recieved a clear view for a split second. Natasha pulled her gun fron its holster, almost time to make her move.

Thunder rolled.

_One one thousand._

Dropping lightly from her perch Natasha rolled coming up on one knee. Swiftly she made her way round the fence towards the gate. Far above phone cables of some kind cracked, metal grinding in protest.

_Two one thousand._

She blanched as the next flash hit the watch tower and rebounded. A tree a stones throw away splintered with a deafening roar. The assasian threw herself to the ground hands over her head. Beneather her the ground heaved and trembled.

_Three one thousand._

This was not so good. The newly created fire was spreading rapidly. An alarm skreetched into the strom. Her tagets would be scrambling to envacuate. Calmly the Black Widow stepped into the rising inferno.

She shot the first merc in the head. Dropped, twisted and put another two bullets into the next. Natasha slipped from shadow to shadow taking down two more. The previous survalence they had done before things went south told her there were fourty men in the compound. However she didn't know how many Clint had managed to eliminate before he'd been captured.

Ejecting an empty magazine Natasha reached for her favourite knife. Her next victim turned out to be stronger than she's expected. The thug slamed an elbow into her side knocking her off balance. She used the momentum to continue her spin and slash his throat.

Smoke wrapped itself around her like a shroud. Natasha was heading towards the main building when she spotted the post standing to her left. Even in the thick cloud of grey she knew her partner.

Natasha dropped to her knees her hands flying to his face to make sure he was unharmed, "Clint?"

His bruiesed face twitched as he attempted to smile, "What kept you?"

"Ass," she teased fondly in an attempt to keep her anxiety at bay. Cutting through the rope that held him prisoner she pulled him up right. Slinging his arm over her shoulders she plotted a path towards the forest.

"Told them you'd be mad," she almost didn't hear the low mumble in her ear.

She shook her head, "Just wait till you're back in one piece," it was an empty threat and they both knew it. Natasha was simply relived to find him relatively unscathed.

Clint's head flopped onto her shoulder, "I'm so scared," he taunted weakly.

Natasha rolled her eyes, it was good to know he was well enough to banter with her.


	3. Violet

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, if I did I would be in fangirl heaven. The characters belong to their respective owners.

Author's Note: So this is how Clint got caught, over whelming odds. I wasn't even planning to write this but I was convinced. :D

To everyone who has reviewed, faved and added this story to their alerts, thank you so much! You're all fantastic.

Silvermonkey

_**24 hours previously**_

The cold had settled into his bones by the time Clint decided to move. He'd been watching White's compound for the past four hours cataloging every movement. He took note of when the patrols changed and how many men would be outside the metal buildings at any given time. Clint rolled his shoulders already scouting out a new perch from a different angle. He still seven hours of surveillance time and he was determind to make good use of the time he had.

Carefully he judged the distance between the tree over. The archer shifted his stance, making sure he was well blanced. Between one the breath and the next he jumped. His hands caught the thick branch above his previous position. Swiftly he crouched body flush with the trunk. None of the mercenaries glanced up. Clint exhaled, perfect.

The cool night air whispered through the thatch of branches as Clint ploted entery and exit points on the mental map he'd created in his mind. He wasn't expecting to see the target tonight. Marcus White had a habbit of not being seen. However the archer recognised the scared man in an instant.

"Widow?"

"What is it?"

Clint sighted and notched an arrow, "I've got my eyes on the target."

"White's in the open?" Natasha sounded as surprised as he felt.

"I have a shot, no wait, damn it!"

"What is it?"

Cursing Clint craned his neck for a better veiw, "He's moved partially behind one of the buildings."

"Wait for me," Romanoff ordered.

"It'll take too long."

"Don't even think about it," the assasin warned.

"We might not get him in the open again," Clint argued.

"We'll get it done, don't rush things."

Clint sloted his bow back into his quiver, "I'm going in close."

"Hawkeye? Damn it Clint!"

The archer was already in motion swinging expertly from branch to branch landing with cat like grace. Clint stole closer towards the back of the compound. White was obviously expecting an attack from the front but not the back. Hooking his fingers into the mesh, Clint scaled the fence, flipping over the barbed wire and dropping into a crouch. He quickly glanced both ways before darting into the shadow cast by the nearest storage structure.

White was hidden by three thugs. Clint notched another arrow and took aim. The first went down with an puncture to the throat. The second recieved one through his eye. Clint was already running by the time the thrid had even whipped out his gun. Clint smashed his elbow into the man's nose, then drove his knee into his opponets ribbs. The thug staggered back with a pained groan. Clint slit his throat with the tip of his next arrow.

Unfortunately White had bellowed for assistence and the other twenty mercs round the front were zeroing in on his position. Cursing blackly under his breath the archer twisted looking for a shot. He got one more arrow off before twenty giants converged on him.

Someone nailed him in the stomach with a solid round house kick. Clint stumbled back reaching for his knife. A crowbar sung to his right. The archer twisted, grabbed another merc's shirt and flung him into the blow. However the crowbar glanced off his left wrist forcing him to drop his knife. If he hadn't been wearing his wrist guards Clint was certain his left would have been broken.

He dodged an uper cut. Slammed his fist into yet another man's nose crushing cartilage. The crowbar colided with his temple. Dazed Clint staggered back blinking furiously. One tiny moment of weakness. Then they were all pilling on him.


	4. Crimson

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, if I did I would be in fangirl heaven. The characters belong to their respective owners.

Author's Note: So here's the end, I hope it doesn't disappoint.

A huge thank you to everyone who encouraged this story and took the time to leave a reveiw,a fav or add this to their alerts.

Your amazing!

Silvermonkey

Natasha dodged between the trees, their black silhouettes merging into one. Clint was struggling to keep up, feet slipping and sliding on the slick mud. His head throbbed, like someone had it in a vice and was squeezing. It was almost thirty minuets back to the safe house but Clint was certain White's men would have regrouped by now and would be coming after them. Somewhere in the distance the two agents could hear the distant sound of quadbikes.

Natasha swore violently in russian.

Clint arched an eyebrow.

The assasian glowered at him, "This is your fault for getting caught in the first place."

"My fult?" Clint injected mock hurt into his tone, "I was out numbered."

"So you say," her voice was cold but her eyes sparkled slightly.

Clint glanced around, eyes searching for shelter of some kind. The storm was still raging above them and the rain made it impossible to see for any amount of distance, even with the archer's vision.

Natasha followed his gaze, "Did you see anything when you were conducting surveillance?"

Pursing his lips Hawkeye tried to recall anything useful from his preliminary scout. Nothing instantly came to mind. He called up the mental map he'd previously created. Twisting his head he attempted to locate a land mark. There, a previously lightning ravaged tree, split down the centre and leaning a little to the left.

"There's an abandoned tample to your left."

The assasin smirked, "Got to love Tibet."

Clint half laughed, half coughed, "Admit it, you love Tibet because its full of mountains and miles away from civiliseation."

"That is a bonus."

Natasha veered left and they started to assend. The trees thinned into a dirt path, well it had been until the rain, now it was a mud coloured stream. Even so they slogged upwards until they could see the outline against the clouds.

Carefully the Black Widow eased her partner to the ground, "How's the concussion?"

Clint concentrated, "Not bad, bearly a grade one." He coughed violently, his ribbs jarring.

Natasha pulled off one of her gloves, cool fingers lightly brushing against his forhead, "You're hot."

"Thanks," the archer teased.

Frowning Natasha replaced her glove, "Seriously, do you feel cold?"

All humour drained from his expression, "Aren't you?"

"No."

"Damn it," Clint looked away.

Loading a new magazine the Black Widow moved towards one of the windows, "How long were you outside?"

"Since they got me," the archer replied sheepishly.

Natasha turned back looking him up and down, "Can you fight?"

He met her gaze, "Always."

The loud drone of the quads reched their ears over the rumbles of thunder. Clint heaved himself upright and joined his partner by the window squinting into the gloom, "I count ten."

She nodded handing him a spare gun and one of her prized knives.

"Phil's going to kill me," Clint muttered.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow.

"At least it wasn't my favourite bow," he mumbled sorrowfully.

"Focus."

They flanked the door way and waited. The engines cut and they could hear the mercenaries dismount. Thug number one didn't stand a chance. Natasha caught him across the jugular and pushed his body into the room behind them. The second met the same sticky end by Clint's hand.

Merc's numbers three and four opened fire but two well placed bullets from Clint ended them. Thug five got three shots off forcing Clint to dive for cover. Natasha elbowed him in the face, her leg sweeping round to knock him on his back. Thug five's knife slashed down her shin. Wincing Natasha darted backwards. Hawkeye took him out with a bullet to the head.

The assasian nodded sharply in thanks. Thug six creased Natasha's arm before she broke his back. Number seven shot number eight as Clint swung him round to act as a human sheild. Natasha shot him twice in the chest.

Nine's blade glanced off Clint's cheek. The archer spun lodging his knife between the man's ribbs. Number ten ducked Natasha's intended head shot. He came up swinging, one fist coliding with Clint's nose. Natasha used nine's falling body as a spring board launching herself into the air, her legs wrapped round ten's throat, she locked them and twisted letting her momentum do the rest ofthe work.

Panting and bleeding from surface wounds the two assasins stood surveying the carnage.

"Do you think you can get away with this?"

They both spun round weapons flying up in defence.

White stood ridged in the enterence his entier body trembling with poorly concealed rage.

Natasha narrowed her eyes, "You should have remained hidden."

The weapons trader raised his gun, "Oh really."

"Yes, now we have more than your scare to identify you with," she stated cooly.

White's expression wavered, perhaps he had made a mistake.

Clint aimed carefully, "I might not have a skewer but I hear a bullet does as much damage."

Panic crept across the man's face. One bullet whizzed past Barton's head, the second narrowly missed his knee.

Natasha grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully, "Don't"

Hawkeye lined up his shot once more and fired with the next breath.

Romanoff dropped the body with disgust, "Did you have too?" she wiped crimson from her face with her hand.

Clint sagged, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

Natasha was by his side in an instant, "Are you hit?"

"No but you are."

"It can wait. We still have three minuets to get to the airstrip."

Clint smirked, "And somebody kindly donated us some quadbikes."


End file.
